The Bastardization of John Winchester
by Crimson1
Summary: Tag to 9.7 "Bad Boys" in honor of John Winchester, who the show continues to destroy...piece by piece. I choose to believe in a better man.


A/N: So...last week's episode really floored me. It was GOOD, but it churned my stomach a little.

The behavior of the John they've given us in more recent seasons, especially in last week's episode, is inexcusable, and abusive, and terrible. It's plain disgusting. I'm not defending the type of dick father who could do things like that. But I am defending the character this show has ruined for me.

He WAS a good father, who did the best he could, and made some mistakes along the way because he was fighting like Hell to protect his sons from the same fate as his wife, a worse fate the more he learned about what YED had planned. But over the seasons, they just keep giving us stories of how shit awful he was, and that was not the John we met in the beginning. At least not to me.

If a father did those things, he's a terrible father, period, and deserves all the hate you can muster, but my head!canon is that John Winchester DIDN'T do those things. I choose to believe in the John before they tried to tell us that Bobby was the only one who ever played catch with the boys, that John moved out for some inexplicable reason once and his marriage to Mary was broken, or that he could ever leave Dean in a home. That is not John Winchester.

So no, I don't hate John. I hate what they've done to what was once a good though flawed character. So after the episode...I wrote this. My way of taking what they've given us but making it still work with my vision of the man. In reality, the show ended at season 5 for me, Adam never existed, Meg died long ago, and Sam and Dean went into the pit together as they overtook the angels they'd both said yes to. But as the show keeps on truckin'...I guess I'll just have to write fics here and there.

Enjoy.

* * *

**The Bastardization of John Winchester**

* * *

John was friendly to the man who came to the door, introducing himself as Mary's cousin with a slight pause before the word, like maybe it wasn't so much a blood relation as something else. John didn't mind. He didn't know much about Mary's family, only having met her parents a few times before they died, but family was family, regardless of blood.

He told the man to have a seat as he went to grab them both some coffee. He was off from the shop for the day and Mary had gone out for groceries while John stayed home to keep an eye on Dean. The little guy was sound asleep upstairs after taking his sweet time going down to nap. John smiled to himself as he checked the baby monitor, then clipped it to his jeans.

He heard Mary return home before he could bring the coffee out to their guest. Then his smile dropped when he heard her and the man immediately start to argue.

He heard "How dare you?" from his wife, something about a funeral from the man and then "Your father would want you to be there. You're family." But Mary erupted, and before John could even peek out of the kitchen, he heard the door slam.

Dean wailed through the baby monitor.

"What was that all about?" John asked, standing dumbfounded with the two cups of coffee as he looked out into the living room.

Mary had dropped the grocery bag. Her face was red with emotion. "It's not important. I just…don't want anyone from that part of my family around Dean. Around us."

"But…he mentioned a funeral. If someone in your family passed away, you should be there."

She snatched up the bag of groceries and shouldered past him into the kitchen. "No I shouldn't. You don't know my family, John. It's a bad idea."

"But why—?"

"Can you put these away? I'm going to go check on Dean." She deposited the bag just as quickly, shed her coat, and retreated up the stairs.

John listened to Dean's cries through the monitor. He heard when Mary went in to console him, the cries giving way to soft whimpers.

Slowly, he set the cups of coffee on the table. Nothing was more important than family. Mary had always agreed with him on that. Knowing how his father had left him, how little he could even recall of his own mother, he couldn't understand how she'd be so dismissive of a death in her own family.

He was going to find a way to go to that funeral.

* * *

"You know why I had to go. There were a lot of people there, Mary, wondering where you were."

Mary was livid on the other end of the line.

"Of course they didn't say anything to me. What would they say? What are you afraid they'd tell me about your family? You refused to go with me, so I went on my own. I'll be back tomorrow."

She continued to rant, making it sound as if he'd actually left her, moved out for those few days, without thinking of her feelings at all. He was trying to think of family, and why she seemed to have a line in the sand about what that meant.

"I know my place is at home with you and Dean. I'm coming home. But this was something I needed to do. When it's family…you do whatever it takes."

* * *

John smiled to himself as he kissed Mary goodnight. They'd already put Sam and Dean to bed, and Mary was heading upstairs to do the same. He told her that he was just going to finish the news story he was on and then he'd be up.

He knew she'd be asleep in moments, with how exhausted she was, but she always had such a sixth sense about the boys, and was the first one awake to tend to them every time. He hated that he slept so deeply, and vowed to stay up tonight so he could be the first one into the room when Sammy inevitably woke up fussing. Mary deserved the break.

It grew late quickly, and John started to wonder if he'd picked the one night Sam would sleep all the way through. He dosed as he watched late night infomercials.

The next thing he knew, he was jolting awake to the sound of Mary screaming.

* * *

John kept writing in the journal. Mary had given it to him. It was one of the few things that survived the fire, because he'd kept it—still empty—in his glovebox in the Impala since she gave it to him. Now the words poured out, mostly about her.

Dean wasn't talking. Sam was just a baby. John was a wreck and he knew it. He didn't trust himself with the boys. He was afraid every second of every day that he'd fail them as he'd failed her, and the moment he let himself rest…he'd wake to another fire.

The last time he wrote about Mary in the journal, it wasn't because he was better, that he'd gotten all of his sorrows out on paper—he had too many to ever accomplish that. But he'd made up his mind. The boys didn't need a sob-story for a father, they needed someone who could protect them, who could teach them to protect themselves.

So that's what he'd become.

* * *

Every time John went out on a hunt, leaving Dean to watch over Sammy, when they were both too young to be left on their own, he wondered if he'd ever see them again. Sometimes he thought it would be better, if he didn't go back. If he died foolishly hunting monsters, and his boys were found and taken away to be given to a better home.

But he knew it wasn't that easy. It wasn't vendetta that made him go out each night, it was them, and the thought of what might come after them if he didn't hunt the monsters first. He had to find whatever had killed Mary, because if he didn't…he knew it would come for his boys one day too.

* * *

"Dad, what is this? You're finally here with us and you can't even _be_ with us?" Dean wasn't often mouthy, but he got worn too, just like John. He always looked so tired, so scuffed at the edges, like he'd aged an extra decade in such few years.

John stared at the drink in his hand—not even a beer, a _hard_ drink. He seemed to need one or more every night now just to get by, just to pass out and sleep without nightmares chasing after him. He knew it wasn't fair. They deserved better than his pain. When he actually was around them, he always had to be tough, had to teach them something, had to prepare them.

He wanted to take them to the movies. Out to dinner. To the park.

He wanted to do those things, but what if tonight was the night? What if he put off getting Dean's aim to be better and that's the moment that yellowed eyed bastard came for them?

"Dad? Are you even listening? Just be _here_, okay, when Sam wakes up. That's all we want, you know?"

It was the first time Dean had said anything about his drinking. But it wasn't the first time John had stumbled home, or been so out of it he could barely focus on their faces. He set the drink down and nodded.

John never drank around the boys again, save a single beer. He _drank_, but he saved it for when he had a hotel room to himself and only his sorrows to keep him company.

* * *

John found Dean almost right away after he'd been taken to the boys' home. He was good at tracking monsters; people were easy. He was angry at first. With Dean for getting caught stealing after losing their money. At himself for letting it ever get this far. He watched Dean from afar a while and saw how…happy the kid was, not burdened by the life they led.

He called Dean later to say he was leaving him there, teaching him a lesson for being so irresponsible. It would be easier on Dean if he was angry. John didn't mention that he was considering leaving Dean there for good.

He knew Yellow Eyes was after Sam. It had always been about Sam. John needed to protect the boy, but maybe…maybe Dean would be okay on his own. He wouldn't be targeted, and if he ran into trouble, he knew how to take care of himself now. It would be better if he could have a normal life, something precious just for himself.

Sam asked about Dean all the time, and John simply told him that Dean was on a hunt on his own, learning the ropes, and that he'd come back with great stories to tell them.

Two months in, John found out something new.

Sam wasn't the only special kid. There had been others. Not only in 1983, but in years before then, batches of them, always the same. Each kid targeted always had a counterpart. Usually a sibling. It was too much of a coincidence. The second John let himself wonder if Dean was part of the plot too, he couldn't let that thought go. He couldn't stand the thought of leaving Dean on his own only to be wrong, and find out that the boys' home had caught fire, or worse.

So he went back for him, said they had a job. He waited in the car with Sam, wishing he could leave Dean there. It was a special night for him apparently. A girl. A dance. John couldn't care, couldn't give in, even when he saw how red Dean's eyes were when he finally came down and got in the car. He had to protect his family.

* * *

Sam had just left for Stanford. John was terrified and twitchy every day. He knew Sam could take care of himself. Knew Dean could too, often on hunts on his own. But they didn't know what was really out there, what was really waiting for them.

Alone in Wisconsin on a random hunt, the last thing John expected was to get a call from his cousin's wife. Well, second cousin, but he was still a Winchester by blood if not in name.

"Kate? What's going on?" She never called him. Terry rarely did either.

"John? Terry, he…he…"

He'd passed away. Lung cancer. They had a son. John remembered when Terry and Kate first got together. Terry had called him to a hunt in Windom, Minnesota. The two had helped him a lot on the case, ended up getting closer over it too. John had been happy for them, happy when he found out they married and had a son.

Now that son was without a father. He was probably the only family left in the world to the Winchesters, and while John never believed blood was what mattered, he knew he had to go.

He remembered the one time Mary and Dean had met Terry. It was before Sam was born, on an impromptu trip up north. Terry had taken them to a Twins game. Dean had loved it, though John doubted he remembered any of it now. So John decided to return the favor. He took Adam to a Twins game, let Kate take a picture of them having a good time, and spent the day telling the boy about his father.

* * *

He was so close. He knew he was close. If he could just put the last of the pieces together, it would be over, and his boys would be safe.

He hated to leave Dean. To pull up and vanish, but it was the only way. Once he knew more, once he'd gotten through the worst of it, he'd come for Dean—for Sam too if he was willing—and they could finally take care of that damn Yellowed-Eyed Demon together.

He knew about Jessica. He stopped by and looked in on Sam whenever he was even mildly close to California. He looked forward to actually meeting her in person, if Sam allowed it, to seeing his son again and being able to let Sam know how proud he was, and that he'd support anything Sam wanted to do with his life…once it was all over.

But the last thing he could ever allow was for his children to go through what he had. He had to end this now, before Jessica became a target too.

He owed them that. Even if they hated him for it in the end.

* * *

There wasn't anything to say. Nothing more he could do. He was already done for. He still didn't really know, really remember how he'd escaped from Alastair long enough to get to the front of the line at the Devil's Gate, but he wasn't about to let anything stop him.

Grabbing that yellowed-eyed bastard, the one who had started everything, and the sure look in Dean's eyes as he fired the killing shot—it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth everything that had happened, every misstep and regret, everything his boys had been through, but if Sam and Dean would be okay, then that was enough for John.

_You'll be okay_, he thought, though he couldn't say it. He couldn't say anything that would ever be enough to make things up to them.

So he faded, and hoped, hoped this would be the end. Not knowing what might come next, even with hundreds of demons released into the world, was somehow a relief over _knowing_ for so many years what YED had planned. Now they would be safe. Now those plans would never come to pass. And even if they did…Sam and Dean could face it.

John wasn't sure where he was headed as he faded away. It wasn't Hell—he'd been there and let it wash over him, knowing his sacrifice was worth it to keep his sons safe—but his destination didn't feel like Heaven, either. It didn't feel like something in between. It felt…new. And different. But familiar somehow.

Familiar because he knew Mary was going with him.

* * *

THE END

Ash told Sam and Dean that John and Mary aren't in Heaven, we know they aren't in Hell, or Purgatory, or reborn on earth. So I choose to believe they were reborn in an alternate reality, like our world, and are living happy normal lives. Maybe one day Sam and Dean can get the same.


End file.
